Mob Boss Babysitter
by charmed7293
Summary: Pitch is a mob boss and Jack is a college student who babysits for money. Pitch won't accept anything less than the best when it comes to his daughter, so when hears Jack is exactly that, he hires him. Though Jack often finds himself in over his head, he's grateful for the money and the other "benefits" that come from his new employment.
1. Kidnap Attempt

Originally, this was posted as separate stories, but since I'm planning on continuing this as a series, it made more sense for it all to be in one fic.

This is a fill for a prompt on the Rise of the Guardians kink meme. A link to the full prompt can be found in my profile, but basically someone requested an AU where Pitch is a mob boss and Jack is a college student who babysits for money. Pitch hears that Jack is the best of the best when it comes to babysitting and he won't accept anything less when it comes to his daughter, so he hires Jack. Someone already started a fill called "By Moonlight" by Pretzel Logic. It is also linked in my profile and I recommend reading that before reading this. Despite a fill already existing, I decided to write this because two anons mentioned wanting to see Jack getting hurt protecting Pitch's daughter and I couldn't stop myself from writing that.

* * *

_Oh God, oh God, oh God. This is so not what I signed up for._ A kidnap attempt by a rival crime lord was bound to happen at some point, but no amount of briefing by security could have prepared Jack for this. The guard who had come to warn him of danger was now dead on the floor and there had been just barely enough time to hide Seraphina before he had been gunned down. Jack could only watch in horror as a muscular man threw aside the door to the small study and revealed a blond man behind him, a gun held securely in his grasp.

"Grab the boy," he said and the hulking mass of muscle rushed forward.

Jack forced his body to move, but scarcely got three steps before Muscles seized him. His arms were forced behind his back and he was dragged back over to the blond man, kicking and screaming.

"Quit struggling," Blondie ordered; Jack ignored him and continued to writhe in the hold. "I said 'quit _struggling_,' boy." This time, he froze at the sight of the gun leveled at him.

"That's better." Blondie slowly lowered the gun, but kept his finger on the trigger. Muscles tightened the grip on Jack's arms just in case he didn't get the message, but it was loud and clear: do something I don't like and I'll shoot. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Now, we are here to collect dear Seraphina. It would assist us greatly if you were to just tell us where she is."

Jack was terrified, but he was not about to give up her location. _Just play dumb and stall until help can arrive._ "Who?"

Blondie sneered at him and the hand holding the gun twitched. "We don't have much time before reinforcements arrive and we don't plan on leaving without Seraphina. It would be in your best interest to cooperate."

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Look, boy, we've done our research. We know you're the girl's caretaker and would have been responsible for hiding her in the event of something like this happening." The gun was brought up and pointed directly at his face.

Jack's stomach turned to ice. "Okay, you got me. Let's say I do know where she is. What makes you think I'm going to tell you?" When he was under great stress, such as right now, Jack resorted to his natural defense mechanism: sarcasm. He did this when interacting with the Nightmare King himself, but he doubted these people would be as amused or as willing to put up with it as his boss was. _Why can't I learn to just shut up! And where the hell is security?_

"You've got a mouth on you, don't you? Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

His arms were wrenched further behind his back, causing him to wince in pain. That was quickly forgotten when Blondie drew his right arm back as if to backhand him. Jack noticed the gun was still in his hand. Surely he wouldn't –

Jack saw stars when the man's arm swung down, pistol-whipping him across his right cheek. He couldn't stop the cry of pain from escaping his mouth as his head snapped to the side.

The other cry that sounded in the room concerned him a lot more than his own. _Seraphina!_ His eyes widened in panic through his haze and he fought off unconsciousness; Blondie had heard it, too. Jack flicked his gaze to the left corner of the room – the opposite corner from where Seraphina was hidden – hoping they would think that he was looking to where she was in his panic. Blondie smirked in a self-satisfied way and sauntered over to where Jack had allowed his eyes to wander. The only potential hiding spot in that area was a table that had a cloth draped over it, concealing the bottom part. "Pretty poor hiding spot you got th-" Blondie cut off midsentence as he pulled the cloth aside and saw nothing underneath. "You little brat!" He strode over to Jack, drawing his arm back again, and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for another impact –

"Stop! You leave my Jack alone!" Seraphina had jumped out of her actual hiding spot – a storage cupboard built into the bottom part of one of the bookcases – and was standing a slight distance away from it, arms crossed and feet planted in a defiant stance.

"Oh, exactly who I was looking for!"

Just as the blond man took a step towards Seraphina and she took a step back with a frightened look on her face, Jack heard a tinkling sound, like a small amount of glass breaking. The hold on Jack's arms loosened and Muscles slowly fell to the side, leaving Jack standing free. The blond man, panicked by the sudden sounds and actions, started to bring the gun up and aim it at Seraphina.

Unnoticed by anyone and as silent as a shadow, a dark figure slipped into the room.

Jack hardly registered that security had finally gotten their butts in action and that some kind of sniper had taken out the man who had been holding him; he only had eyes for his motionless young charge and the danger she was in. He dashed forward. If he didn't make it in time the man would shoot Seraphina and he couldn't let her die, couldn't let the little girl he had grown to love die like this. Jack didn't think of how much of a brat she could be, didn't think of how often she took advantage of his situation, didn't even think of what Pitch would do to him if he let his daughter die on his watch – he just thought of how much he couldn't stand the thought of this young girl dying. _I'm not going to make it!_ He threw himself forward.

He heard the gunshot go off as his arms closed around Seraphina in a protective embrace and he felt a searing pain in his right side as he hit the floor, which he thought strange because he had landed on his _left_ side. Trying to push himself up on his elbow caused pain to flare through his abdomen and his stomach muscles to seize up in protest of the strain. He quickly collapsed back onto the ground and, not able to bring himself to look at what he knew he would find, just clamped his left hand to that side. Ignoring the sick feeling the sticky wetness induced, he wrapped his other arm around Seraphina, pulling her down and close to him. Jack felt incredibly vulnerable, injured and with his back to the blond man with the gun, but there was really nothing else he could do.

"Awww, how precious! Sacrificing yourself to sa –" Again Blondie stopped in the middle of what he was saying, this time due to the sound of a gun – apparently _not_ his and presumably pointed _at_ him – being cocked.

Pitch held his gun to the back of the blond man's head. He hadn't been quick enough to stop him from shooting Jack, but he wasn't going to allow him to do any further damage. "I'm tired of hearing you talk. I'm also tired of you shooting my employees. Both are going to stop. Right now."

"Daddy!"

His daughter was peering at him from over Jack's shoulder, who had twisted around slightly so he could see what was happening, though he had avoided moving the lower half of his body. Jack also kept one hand pressed over a rapidly growing red spot on his side and the other wrapped around his daughter. "Don't look, Seraphina," Jack whispered, pulling her down, but she resisted, looking longingly at Pitch.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm here. Just close your eyes, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay, Daddy," she finally said, nodding her head and hiding her face in Jack's chest. After a brief moment of eye contact, Jack turned away as well and curled his body around Seraphina.

"No, please! Don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want!"

Pitch had almost forgotten about the man he held at gunpoint. His upper lip curled at the utter contempt he felt for him. "You don't want me to kill you, yet you say you'll do anything I want . . . well, that's a bit of a contradiction, don't you think? Considering I want you to die."

"Plea –" He pulled the trigger, finally shutting the insufferable man up. Blood and brain and bits of skull splattered against the walls as his head blew apart. Pitch wiped his face off with his sleeve, calmly stepping over the body to get to Jack and Seraphina, who had started to lift her head up.

"Daddy?" she sniffled.

"Everything's going to be okay now, Seraphina. Keep those eyes shut. I'm right here." Pitch knelt down right behind Jack and put his hand on his daughter's head. She slowly sat up more and Jack loosened his grip. He moved his arm to join his other hand in pressing against his side and kept his eyes squeezed shut. Pitch looked at him with concern. He placed his gun on the floor and used both hands to grip his daughter under the arms and lifted her up, careful not to jostle Jack as he pulled her to him. She immediately latched onto him and buried her face in his shoulder. He pet her hair with one hand and hugged her tight with the other, whispering that everything was okay and to keep her eyes closed.

"Sir! Is everything all right?"

Pitch glanced up to see another guard standing in the doorway. "I've got everything under control, no thanks to any of you."

"I apologize grievously, sir. They managed to scatter our ranks, which hindered our counter measures."

"There are more pressing matters to deal with right now. Just don't let it happen again. Take Seraphina to the safe house for now." He was torn between staying with his daughter and helping Jack. His daughter was scared, but she was used to events like this happening; Jack, however, was not and had come out of it worse for the wear. Though he had done an admirable job, he was injured and needed more help than she did right now.

"Yes, sir!" The guard rushed over and held his arms out for Seraphina.

She tightened her grip briefly and said, "I love you, Daddy," before she let go and allowed the guard to take her.

"I love you, too. I'll be there soon. Keep your eyes closed."

"Only if you take care of Jack for me, okay?" she called as the guard carried her briskly out of the room.

"Of course." Thinking he was unseen, Pitch allowed himself a small smile.

Jack's small chuckle-turned-cough altered him to the fact that he was not, in fact, alone. "A situation like this and you smile." He was still on his side, but his head was tilted back and his eyes were open.

Pitch honestly didn't know what to think of the boy. Jack was one of the most sarcastic and annoying individuals he had ever come across. He irritated him to no end most of the time . . . yet he couldn't help but admire Jack's ability to follow through with that behavior even in stressful situations. None of the other caretakers he had hired to look after his daughter had stuck around this long; mainly because Seraphina was too much of a handful for them or they were too afraid of him, but also because they got scared away by the dangers of the job. Jack had certainly not run away in the face of danger. Pitch just shook his head. "A situation like this and you get shot." He gently turned Jack over onto his back, trying not to be affected by the pained look it brought to the boy's face. He also tried not to be affected by the slowly blossoming bruising that he noticed creeping up on Jack's right cheek.

"Hey, it makes more sense than smiling," he said, his voice more strained than it had been before. Pitch frowned in concern. He needed to take him to the medical center in the safe house. He wasn't too worried about Jack recovering; gunshot wounds were common in his line of work and the medics knew how to handle them, but he needed to get him there as soon as possible.

"I have to bring you to the medical center and the easiest way to do that is to carry you."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I could just leave you here, you know."

"And risk Seraphina throwing a temper tantrum? I don't think so." Jack smirked.

Normally, Pitch wouldn't put up with such audacity from the boy, but he was wounded so he would let it go. He only gave him a blank stare in response to his jibe. "Keep that pressure on the wound," he said as he slid one arm under Jack's knees and the other behind his back and lifted him up. Jack gasped and Pitch could feel his jaw clenching from where it rested against his chest. It wasn't until he was fully standing that he realized his gun was still on the floor. Jack's breathing was labored enough and he didn't want to cause him more pain by bending down to retrieve it. He kicked it to the side and walked out of the room.

"This is just plain embarrassing," Jack said with a weak voice.

"You think this is embarrassing to _you_? How do you think it looks for _me_, carrying one of my own employees like they're an invalid?"

"Technically, I am an invalid."

"This whole situation is an embarrassment," Pitch said as he stepped over a pile of rubble that used to be a door. Since it was one of the outside doors it had been heavily reinforced, but the kidnappers had still managed to destroy it; he made a mental note to look into the newest explosives on the market. He started making his way across the lawn, ignoring the rest of the damage that the area had been sustained. "I'm going to have a serious word with security about letting those men get so close to you and Seraphina."

"_Me_ and Seraphina? Careful, might sound as if you were actually worried 'bout me – which you don't needa be. I'm capable of handling myself."

"Oh, this is 'handling yourself?'" Pitch asked, glancing down at Jack, absently thinking that he looked a bit paler than he normally did. "What you did was reckless, but . . ." he paused, ". . . thank you for protecting my daughter."

"There's no need to thank me. 'm jus' doing my job, right?"

"Your job is to be Seraphina's caretaker, to entertain her, to make sure she doesn't cause too much trouble. _Security_ is supposed to protect her. You went beyond your duties."

"Well, your duty is to give me my paycheck, not carry me around like a bride, s'you're goin' beyond yours right now . . . we'll call it even, 'kay?" Jack voice was slightly slurred now and his eyelids were drooping. "Not that there's'nything wrong with being a bride . . . 's'jus' I'm not one."

Pitch pressed his lips together in a hard line, but he reminded himself that the boy was probably talking out of half-delirium caused by blood loss so he couldn't hold anything against him. Thankfully, he was at the safe house so someone could take Jack off his hands. He lifted one leg and banged against the door with it; there was no way he was going to try juggling holding Jack, who he was pretty sure was now fully unconscious, and opening the door at the same time. Someone better be there waiting for him.

A security guard swung the door open mere seconds after he had knocked, but he ignored them in favor of going directly to Dr. Myers, who was waiting just inside the door, with a stretcher by her side.

As soon as she saw him, she rushed forward. "There you are, sir. Put him right here. What's the approximate time lapse since he was shot?"

Pitch placed Jack on the stretcher and stepped back to let Myers do her work. "Ten minutes," he reported as she lifted Jack's shirt to check the wound.

"Gunshot wound to the side . . . looks like it just grazed . . . bleeding quite a bit . . . no sign of a bullet, but it could be hidden . . . several small lacerations and bruising on the face . . . not serious. Prognosis seems good, sir, though I can never really say anything too sure when it comes to gunshot wounds."

"You've never failed me before, Dr. Myers."

"Sir." Pitch didn't miss the small smile her face at the praise, but it was true; he never accepted anything less than the best. Myers motioned to the security guard who had opened the door as well as another that had been nearby and they moved into position to push the stretcher. "Luckily, he has the same blood type as you and your daughter," she said, tapping the folder in her hands, obviously Jack's medical files, "so we have plenty of blood if we need to do a transfusion, which looks likely. All right, quickly!" She sped off down the hallway with the two guards, using her own hands to keep pressure on Jack's wound.

Pitch didn't allow himself to watch, but headed in another direction to where he knew his daughter would be. He wanted to make sure she was completely okay and to let her know that Jack was going to be all right.

"Jaaack. Jaaa~aaack. Jack!"

"Leave him alone, Seraphina, honey. Remember Dr. Myers said he needs to rest."

"But he's been resting for so long now. I wanna play!"

"Even if you wake him up right now, he'll be in no condition to play."

Though Jack was only semi-conscious and barely aware of what was going on around him, he could perfectly visualize the pout on Seraphina's face. He slowly opened his eyes, groaning at the bright light. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and, just as he began to make out the ceiling, it was blocked by Seraphina's face. "Jack! Yay, you're awake! Let's go play!"

"What did I tell you, Seraphina?"

Her face was pulled back as if she had been picked up and moved. He turned his head slightly in that direction and saw Pitch putting his daughter back on the floor next to the bed. Pitch then looked up at him with a – _gentle_?! look in his eyes. "Are you feeling okay, Jack?"

" . . . yeah, I'm fine. Are you feeling okay?"

Pitch's expression looked confused and offended at the same time. "Why would _I_ not be okay?"

"You asked me if I was 'feeling okay,'" Jack deadpanned. "Is there any reason I wouldn't be?" He was slowly waking up and becoming more alert. As he looked around more, he realized he was in his room at Pitch's mansion, but he noticed some hospital equipment next to the bed. _That definitely didn't use to be there – oooohh, right. I was shot – I was __**shot**__!_

The thought sunk into his head pretty quickly and he threw the blankets back and ripped up his shirt. Bandages wound around his midsection and he cautiously splayed his hand over his right side. He winced at the pain that radiated from that spot.

Suddenly, Pitch grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away. "Don't touch it. You'll only irritate it."

"Hey, that's what I'm best at." Jack smirked, but kept his hand away from the bandages.

"Jack! Are you sure you can't play?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Sorry, sunshine." This time he did see the pout on her face and it was almost enough to make him want to try and get out of bed. Almost.

"Fiiiine! But I want a hug!" She climbed up on the bed, being careful not to make it move too much, and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Jack pushed himself up on one elbow and hugged her back with the other arm. Leaning up like that hurt a bit, but he ignored the pain. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered before pulling away and skipping out of the room.

He smiled and lay back down. He glanced at Pitch, who had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared after his daughter. Sighing, he turned his head in the other direction, seeing more medical equipment. Looking up, he saw the plain white ceiling. He had just woken up and he was already bored. Lying on his back was already getting old, but he knew it would hurt too much to roll onto his side. This was going to be a fun recovery.

Jack sighed again and brought his hands up to rub his face, but was startled by the feeling of rough gauze instead of skin under his right palm. Gently prodding the area with his fingers, he remembered the blond man had struck him across the face with his gun. It ached when he touched it so it was definitely bruised. It was even tender when he felt that side of his mouth with his tongue.

_I wonder how much school I missed._ Jack frowned. _I don't know how long I was unconscious for. Hopefully, Pitch took care of explaining away why I was gone so long. But what are people going to say when I show back up and with a giant bruise on my face and a gunshot wound?!_

"Don't mess with that either."

He started at the sound of Pitch's voice and realized that he had unconsciously been picking at the gauze. He moved his hand back down by his side, giving Pitch a sheepish look.

Pitch's expression was stern. "I should be going, too." His firm look melted off his face and he averted his eyes. "But . . . I just wanted to say . . ."

Jack looked at him expectantly.

Pitch's mouth twitched, as if what he was going to say something unpleasant. "I wanted to thank you again."

"You're not still on about tha –"

"Jack, I'm serious!" He had moved forward and was glaring aggressively at Jack, one hand grabbing the front of Jack's shirt. His eyes widened in fear and Pitch backed away, releasing his grip. Jack's heart was beating rapidly in his chest; if there was anything that was always going to scare the ever living hell out of him it was going to be an angry Nightmare King, especially when that anger was directed at him. Pitch took a deep breath as if reminding himself that he had to play nice. "I'm serious. You saved my daughter, which was much more than what I hired you to do. And I always repay my debts."

"What are you going on about?"

"Is there anything you want, Jack? Anything at all? Just tell me and I'll get it for you."

"Really? You don't have to –"

"Jack." Pitch's tone was unyielding and left no room for argument.

"All right – I mean – just give me a minute." Jack thought frantically. Working for Pitch provided him with all the necessities and he didn't want anything material. There wasn't really – wait. "Anything?"

"Anything within my power. Which is very nearly anything."

"Okay then." It was Jack's turn to take a deep breath, this time to steel his resolve. "I want a hug."

" . . . a hug?"

"Yes, a hug. You do know what a hug is?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then give me a hug."

"Why?!"

"It's just what I want, okay!"

"Fine," Pitch bit out, though he looked severely disgruntled. He leaned over Jack and slid one arm under his shoulders and cradled the back of his head with the other. Jack's torso was gingerly lifted up, his weight fully supported by Pitch's arms so he didn't have to strain his stomach muscles. Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch's back, tilting his head forward to rest it on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and fully relaxed into the embrace.

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had been properly hugged. Seraphina's wriggling squeezes didn't quite count as real hugs, no matter how adorable she was, and no one else at the house was really a liable hugging candidate. He breathed in deeply, smelling Pitch's cologne. It was a scent that seemed to permeate the house, some underlying thing that he never really recognized, but had come to associate with his employer. As he let the breath out in a heavy sigh, he felt Pitch's fingers lightly scratching the back of his head and digging into his back. It felt so nice to have close human contact. He sighed again.

It was all too soon that Pitch gave him a slightly tighter squeeze and then lowered him back onto the mattress. Jack opened his eyes and saw the _Nightmare King_ looking a bit flustered, which shocked and amused him at the same time. He smirked. Pitch glared.

"You speak of this to no one."

Jack just laughed. "Of course."

Pitch coughed to clear his throat, smoothing down his shirt and straightening his tie. "I best go get Dr. Meyers. She wanted to be altered as soon as you woke up, but I wanted to settle our debt first." He turned and walked to the doorway, where he turned around. "Oh, and, by the way, you required a blood transfusion and since you are the same blood type as me and my daughter –"

"How did you get my medical records?!"

"– Dr. Meyers used blood that was set aside for us in case of emergency situations. Once you are fully recovered, I expect you to replenish what you caused to be depleted."

"What?! You're crazy! Literally paying for shit with my own blood . . ."

Pitch just smirked at him from the doorway.

Pitch strode down the hallway to his daughter's room, on his way to say goodnight. It was actually a half hour past her bedtime, but he had gotten caught up in some work. He knew she wouldn't go to sleep unless he read her a story and tucked her in, so he increased his pace, not wanting Seraphina to be up any later.

When he reached the door to her room, he knocked softly and pushed it open. The room was dark and at first he thought that she had simply gone to bed without a story. Then he noticed the whiteness of the thrown back sheets, a stark contrast to the shadowy bedroom. The bed was empty. Pitch's heart skipped a beat and he whirled out of the vacant room.

As he stalked back down the hallway, multiple scenarios of successful kidnappings raced through his head and he willed himself not to panic. His daughter being out of bed late at night didn't mean that she had been kidnapped again, but he always envisioned the worst possible scenario; it was the reason he was still alive. Light shining around the cracks of one of the doors caught his attention and he stopped. That was Jack's door. He opened it, planning on asking Jack if he's seen Seraphina, but froze as his gaze was drawn to the two figures sitting in an armchair within the circle of light created by a floor lamp. Of course his daughter hadn't gone to sleep without a bedtime story. If Pitch hadn't been there to read her one he should have known exactly where or, more specifically, to whom she would have gone: her beloved babysitter.

Seraphina was fast asleep, curled up against Jack's left side and half sprawled on his lap. Jack was also sleeping, his head tilted back and to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle. A book lay open on his lap, grasped loosely in his right hand as if he had fallen asleep while holding it up. His left arm was wrapped around Seraphina, keeping her snug against his chest, though her fist tightly gripping his shirt indicated that she wasn't going to be moving anyway.

Walking over to them, Pitch smiled slightly. His daughter looked peaceful, something he was thankful for considering that it was only a few days after she had been through such a traumatic experience. He stroked her hair back, his face becoming completely unguarded, something he only allowed when he was alone with his daughter. But they weren't really alone right now, he reminded himself. Sure, he was sleeping, but Jack was still there. Pitch turned his gaze to him, his usual mask beginning to reconstruct itself. He thought that maybe he should stop trying to deny that he did indeed feel some kind of compassion towards the boy . . . but the Nightmare King did not listen to anyone – not even himself sometimes; however, he did admit that he was feeling jealousy towards the boy right now. Did his daughter really think Jack an appropriate replacement?

He contemplated taking Seraphina back to her room to tuck her into her own bed – and read her a bedtime story himself for good measure. Yet, he didn't, convincing himself that it was only because doing so would disturb his daughter when she was so calm. He also considered just leaving the two of them exactly as they were; his daughter was comfortable so who cared if Jack woke up with a kink in his neck from sleeping like that? Certainly not Pitch! It would serve him right for stealing Seraphina away from him.

He paused at those thoughts. His _daughter_ was the one who went to Jack, was she not? Jack had barely been able to walk to the chair earlier that day from what Dr. Myers had told him.

Pitch rubbed a hand down his face, making up his mind. He walked over to the bed, dragging a blanket off it and picking up the pillow. He threw the blanket over the slumbering pair and tucked the corners in underneath them, making sure that it wasn't covering Seraphina's head and wasn't too tight against Jack's injured side. He tilted Jack's head forward and placed the pillow behind it, making sure it was straight when he laid it back down. As he pulled his hands away, he noticed bright blue eyes looking up at him, shining in the light of the lamp. He resisted the urge to wipe that faint smirk off Jack's face, but reminded himself of what the boy meant to his daughter. And himself . . .

Maintaining eye contact, he reached up and extinguished the lamp; everything else around disappeared in the darkness, but he could still see those blue eyes.


	2. Office Meeting

And so the smut begins. Like, seriously, most of the next things written and planned are all smut, so enjoy, I guess. ahahah After this one, I only have one more written, but I'm working on the next several simultaneously and am going to switch full focus to the fourth part. If you have any requests let me know. There is an overarching plot that will come to be realized, but I want to have some more fun with this before I get into that!

Let know know how you like this one!

* * *

Getting called to Pitch's office was never a good thing. Jack had heard stories from other employees, stories about people who went in and never came out. And those were the lucky ones. There had been people who went in and _did_ come out, but they were never the same again.

Jack supposed the sole reason he had exited Pitch office sane and in one piece the first and only time he had been in there was because Pitch needed him to watch Seraphina, a task Jack was still needed for. So, when he received a letter one morning instructing him to leave Seraphina in the care of one of the other employees and report to Pitch's office at an unspecified time in the afternoon, he repeated that line over and over in his head in an attempt to reassure himself there was nothing to fear in going to Pitch's office.

Despite his valiant efforts, there was no kidding himself. He was _beyond_ terrified, not even on the visible spectrum of terror, as he walked down the hallway to the door of the dreaded office.

_I wonder what it was that finally convinced him to off me? _he thought. _I hope it wasn't that comment about the gray hair because it reeeeeally wasn't worth it. I knew it was strange that he didn't say anything. Now I know why. He was plotting how to kill me!_

He briefly considered just turning around and running while he still could, but there were too many well-trained guards to even _think_ about getting very far. Besides, that would only lead to a painful death by bullets in his back and he really didn't want to get shot again; one relatively non-lethal time was enough.

_Maybe Pitch will be merciful and give me a quick death, like a shot to the head at point blank range. Yeah, that would be a much nicer way to go. I wonder if he would actually be the one to shoot the gun or if he would just tell one of his lackeys to do it. If anyone was going to kill me, I would prefer it to be him – well I would prefer not to die at all, but if I was forced to choose who it was._

Caught up in his thoughts, Jack almost passed the door to Pitch's office. Backtracking a couple steps, Jack stood outside it, examining the dark wood grain and shiny brass doorknob, wondering how long he could stand outside the office, stalling for time. The hallway was strangely deserted, not even a guard keeping watch, so there was no one around to tell him to get a move on. Pitch would leave at some point, but that wouldn't be until later in the evening, giving Jack plenty of time to contemplate and appreciate his life; however, that would only delay the inevitable and Jack had never been patient. Even when it came to his own death apparently.

The door opened before Jack got the chance to even raise his hand.

"You know, most people knock when they want to come in," Pitch said smugly, leaning against the door frame.

"What if I don't want to come in?" Jack countered automatically. _Dammit, I'm trying _not_ to piss him off._

Pitch just rolled his eyes, a slightly amused smile on his lips. "It doesn't matter what you want. _I_ want you to come in." The smiled slipped. "So step into my office." That was said with a hard tone that brooked no argument, such a sudden change from his initial exasperation that Jack obeyed immediately.

Pitch moved out of the way so he could pass by, which put him out of Jack's line of sight, which was incredibly not okay. There was no way Jack could turn around to keep an eye on him without it being obvious he was paranoid, so he kept facing forward as he walked to the large desk in the center of the room. The absence of a chair left him just standing there, not quite knowing what to do and trying to quell his nerves through the mounting anxiety.

He jumped as the door closed with a sharp click. Pitch's soft chuckle made it clear he had noticed.

"There's no need to be so skittish," Pitch said as he swept around the desk and sat smoothly in his chair.

"I am not _skittish_!" Jack denied, a little bit too fast. "I'm just wary."

Pitch outright laughed. "'Wary?' Of what?"

Jack sputtered for a moment. Pitch made it sound as if he had absolutely no reason to be afraid of the mob boss who had murdered countless people and basically had control of every aspect of his life, from eating breakfast to paying for school even to continuing _living_.

Pulling himself together, Jack responded, "Well, I-I mean, every other time you wanted to meet with me you just –"

"This is something I would prefer to do in private," Pitch interrupted him casually, gathering some papers on his desk and moving them to the side.

Jack went very still, ceasing his nervous shifting from one foot to the other. Pitch must have noticed, since he straightened in his chair and looked seriously at Jack.

"Oh, this wouldn't have anything to do with my office, would it? Everyone always tells those terrible stories, but they're just to scare the newer employees. Most of them are exaggerated."

"'Most of them?' For some reason that's just not reassuring me." Jack gave a shaky laugh that wasn't fooling anyone.

"Trust me when I say they were only the people who greatly deserved it. For example, one of my daughter's previous caretakers –"

"That's not reassuring me either!" Jack took a step back from the desk, his eyes widening to the point where it felt like they were going to pop out of his head. _Why does he think talking about the undoubtedly horrific fate of someone who used to have _my job_ will help?!_

Pitch sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps that's not the best one to tell." He paused, presumably thinking of a different story to tell, one that hopefully wouldn't frighten Jack. It was taking far too long, in Jack's opinion. Pitch's face finally lit up and he began talking. "Ah! How about this one, about the cook who tried to poison my food. She was very lucky that I got caught up in my work and skipped dinner that night. Even luckier that she cooked something my daughter didn't like and refused to eat. But she _wasn't_ so lucky as to be given the option of refusing to eat her food. Certainly attempting to kill me –"

"That was supposed to be reassuring?" Jack deadpanned, but he was internally filled with horror at hearing the delight in Pitch's voice as he talked about this subject. He never really got to see Pitch in action and he was totally okay with that. As Seraphina's caretaker, it was his job to keep her – and by association himself – _out_ of the action as much as possible. Being right in the middle of it once was more than enough; explicitly hearing about it wasn't much better.

"It was supposed to demonstrate that it's only people who _deserve_ it." Pitch sighed again, clearly frustrated with himself. That alone was enough to give Jack pause; it was very rare that Pitch wasn't confident in his actions and even rarer that he allowed others to see it. "I'm not used to trying to convince people I'm not going to kill them. Usually I _am_ trying to kill them or their fear that I'm going to can be used to my advantage."

"Um, so you're not going to kill me?" Jack dared to suggest, dared to hope. If he was wrong, the worst Pitch could do was laugh at him before he pulled his gun out.

"Of course not!" Pitch said. Jack let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "You've been more than useful, looking after my daughter."

It would have been nice to have something more than "useful" keeping him alive, but Jack was willing to take what he got.

"Besides, you still have to replace the blood you borrowed."

That wasn't exactly the "something more" he was hoping for. _I thought he had been joking about that. Guess not._

"'Borrowed?' I had a bullet hole in my side and was pretty much _bleeding_ to death!"

"The context of that situation was – and is – irrelevant. I'm not going take blood from a dead body," Pitch said as he smirked. "Though I am genuinely curious, Jack, what would make you think I was going to kill you?"

Jack had a long list for this. "Well, there's the fact you've threatened to do so plenty of times!" he started, "and you've followed through on death threats that you've made against other people. Not to mention you didn't seem nearly ticked off enough about me pointing out your gray hair the other day."

"Hmmm." Pitch sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. He stroked his chin in contemplation before he said, "If it had been anyone other than you, I most likely would have."

That was interesting. Jack knew he got away with a lot of sarcasm and snarking, but the reasons for that were never explained. Surely it must be something more than simply being _useful_. "Soooooo, why not me?"

"Oh, a number or reasons. As I mentioned before, you usefulness in relation to my daughter for one. Her attachment to you for another."

"Care to tell me any others?" Jack prompted with a smirk when Pitch didn't seem inclined to continue. Now, safe from death at least, he was much more confident.

"Tell you? I'm a man of action, Jack. I would prefer to show you instead."

Jack wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. He knew he didn't like it when Pitch got up from his desk and walked around to the other side, _his_ side. The smirk fell from his face and he resisted the urge to back away as Pitch approached him.

_I should let Pitch know I'll understand just as well if he _tells_ me. Yeah, that's a good idea._ Jack was about to say such a thing out loud when Pitch grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and yanked him forward, leaving his mouth very suddenly occupied.

His eyes widened and he stared, unseeing, at the wall behind Pitch's desk. His heart was beating painfully fast and he couldn't breathe.

Pitch was kissing him.

The hand bunching up the front of Jack's hoodie slid around back to grip the hood and pulled down, forcing Jack to bend backwards to prevent being choked by his own collar. The other arm wound tightly around his waist, supporting him, but also preventing him from escaping.

_Not that I want to escape? Do I?_ Jack certainly couldn't deny he found Pitch attractive, but he had always assumed Pitch would be too aloof or otherwise occupied to consider a relationship or even just casual fucking. Apparently that was not the case.

On some level, Jack definitely wanted this; on another, he questioned the wisdom of getting involved with his boss. And that was _just_ someone who was his boss, never mind the Nightmare King on top of that.

Pitch's tongue teased his lips open and slipped into his mouth, paralyzing him even more than he already had been. He made a soft sound, unsure what was meant by it, and Pitch hummed in approval. Jack felt it in his teeth.

Pitch's tongue pressed to the top of his mouth and slid down to drag against his own tongue. Pitch didn't try to coax him into reciprocating and Jack was glad for that; he still wasn't sure how to respond. At this point he was still screaming internally, just barely aware enough to register that Pitch was a very good kisser and vaguely wonder when he found time to pick up such a skill. It was probably some kind of seduction technique used to render enemies helpless; it was certainly effective on him if it was.

When he was suddenly turned and backed up against the edge of Pitch's desk, he finally regained his senses enough to gasp and pull away. Pitch was still holding onto him, so he only managed to turn his head to the side, but it broke the kiss and that was what he was aiming to do.

"Wh-ha . . ." Jack was panting and short of breath, heart pounding and thoughts scattered, not good combination for forming a coherent sentence. Denied his mouth, Pitch's lips moved to his neck, which didn't help much either. "Wha-aahhht are y-you doing?" Jack managed, his voice hitching when Pitch found a sensitive spot.

"Kissing you. Honestly, Jack, if you didn't know that then maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Pitch murmured, his voice surprisingly husky. Jack shivered at Pitch's hot breath ghosting across his skin as kiss-swollen lips formed the words against his neck.

"Well, yeah, but wHY!" His voice rose several octaves as Pitch bit down suddenly. Jack's mouth stayed open in a silent gasp and he tried hard, _so_ hard, to ignore the heat pooling in his groin.

Pitch's grip around Jack's waist shifted, loosened, and he let go of the hood. He braced his hands against the desk on either side of Jack's hips, effectively trapping him. Jack, still bent backwards, was off balance without the arm supporting him, so he gripped the front of Pitch's shirt. Pitch looked down at him with a strange glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Why? Because I can, Jack. Because I'm bored. Because it's a good way to shut you up. Because I enjoy watching you squirm. Because I _want_ to."

_Pitch wants me? Pitch wants _me_?! Well, that explains all those weird glances and lingering touches since, like, the kidnapping incident, not that I did much to discourage that._ He didn't know what to say, but with the way Pitch practically _growled_ that last line, he knew there was definitely no denying this was turning him on. His brain was slow to muster his vocabulary and he could only let out a small whine.

Pitch's smirk was positively _deadly_ as he leaned forward to whisper in Jack's ear, "Now that we've got that out of the way . . . shall we continue?" As he spoke, one hand found Jack's hip and slipped under the hem of his hoodie, splaying over his ribs, then moving up and over to the center of his chest, before applying a steady pressure, forcing Jack to bend backwards.

Jack tensed his stomach muscles to hold himself up. It was difficult, though not as difficult as the war going on within his mind. One side of his brain said that this was a bad idea, that getting involved with the _Nightmare King_ was a _very_ bad idea.

_This is the man who threatened to kill you before_, it said, _and he's made good on many death threats in the past. Who's to say he won't kill you once you let your guard down._

And it was right, very right.

But there was another side, one that said it actually sounded pretty good. This side was a lethal mixture of desire and fear and excitement and it was quick to consume his entire being as soon as he dipped his toes in.

_What is fun without a little danger?_ this one said. _You know you've always been into this kind of stuff, but never trusted anyone enough to ask. Now, you don't even have to ask! Pitch is just giving it to you! You would be crazy to turn this down. Not to mention dead for daring to reject him. Just go with it – you may never get an opportunity like this again._

Oh, the first side may have been right, but this side _felt_ right.

Always one to act on his feelings instead of following logic, Jack pushed up onto his toes to perch on the edge of the desk. The action was still a bit tentative, unsure, but Pitch seemed to take it as an enthusiastic yes and he pushed down on Jack's chest with a bit more force. At the same time, Jack gave into the hand's pressure, and his head ended up thudded against the wood as he fell back, but it didn't matter because now Pitch was pushing his legs apart and moving to stand between them as he leaned down for a kiss.

This time, Jack reciprocated, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Pitch's, though his actions were still hesitant. He did feel slightly more confident, but not enough to take the initiative to deepen the kiss.

_Pitch certainly isn't lacking in confidence_, Jack thought as Pitch's tongue slicked over his bottom lip. Jack willingly parted his lips and let him take control.

At the first touch of Pitch's tongue against his own, Jack clenched his hands, twisting the material of Pitch's shirt. The hand on his chest rubbed soothingly before skimming down his side, fingers brushing over his nipple on the way down, causing him to squirm. The hand settled briefly on his waist, tracing the outline of his ribs, before dipping down even further and sliding under the waistband of his pants. Jack inhaled sharply through his nose, surprised at Pitch's boldness, though he supposed he really shouldn't be.

He exhaled with a moan as Pitch wrapped his fingers around his length. Pitch made a sound of approval and his other hand reached up to thread through his hair. The soft touch turned to a rough grip and Pitch pulled back sharply, jerking Jack out of the kiss. Jack hissed, ready to voice a complaint at the suddenness of it, but Pitch's hand on his cock started moving, stroking him in a steady rhythm, and he found himself unable to think of any words to say.

Pitch pulled Jack's head back farther, completely baring his neck. He pressed wet kisses to the underside of his jaw, following the line of his throat down to his collarbone. Pitch bit down right above the ridge of bone at the same he smeared his thumb over the head of Jack's cock.

Jack cried out, arching his body up into Pitch's. _Okay, fuck, I definitely want this._

He untangled his hands from Pitch's shirt to seek out the top button, but his fingers found their way blocked by Pitch's tie. They fumbled with the knot and Pitch released his hair to still his fingers.

"Don't undo the knot," Pitch warned, carefully loosening it himself and slipping it over his head.

"What, won't be able to retie it all by yourself?" Jack would never admit that he whined when Pitch's hand tightened to the point of pain around his cock. Or that it quite possibly made him even harder.

"I would watch yourself if I were you. I believe I have a bit of an advantage over you at the moment."

"What if I _want_ to provoke you?" As always, Jack knew running his mouth like that was going to get him in trouble, but maybe, just maybe, he _wanted_ to get in trouble.

Jack swore Pitch stopped breathing. His face was slack with shock for a moment, but quickly restructured itself into a look of hunger and anticipation. Jack had never seen that particular smile on Pitch's face before, but it could only mean nothing good. Or everything good.

Pitch leaned down until Jack could feel the dangerous curl of lips against his ear. "Then you may very well get what you want."

Shivers that prickled like fire skittered across Jack's skin. Pitch resumed stroking him, the punishing grip of his hand barely relenting, creating just the right mixture of pain and pleasure. Jack moaned at the intense friction, then gasped in protest when the hand withdrew. Pitch silenced him with a kiss, drawing him in, and Jack scarcely registered Pitch taking hold of his hands and moving them together. Pitch held his wrists with one hand as he looped the tie around them and tightened it.

Jack pulled back from the kiss to stare at his bound wrists, suspended over his face. The sight made his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat, made fear thrum through his body with a thrill of desire and an icy creeping though his veins.

Pitch looked down at him, just as hungry as before and then some. He tugged on the tie, bringing Jack's arms above his head, only stopping when Jack's wrists were against the edge of the desk. Pitch used both hands to do something that caused the tie to tighten and pull on Jack's wrists even more. In his haze, Jack couldn't quite tell what had been done.

Once Pitch moved back, Jack shifted his wrists experimentally, but found his movement restricted. Twisting his hands, he felt around with his fingers. He followed the silky material of the tie down to where it bunched into a knot tied over a smooth, short bar of metal.

_He tied me to the handle of a drawer. Fuck._ Before Jack could determine if that curse was used in a good or bad manner, Pitch was kissing him again, stroking his hands down his stretched-out arms, and he decided it was definitely good.

"You look beautiful like this," Pitch murmured against his lips. Jack simply panted in response, unable to think, especially after that sentence.

Pitch stepped away and fear spiked through him.

"W-wait!" Jack stammered, lifting his head up, looking around wildly for Pitch. _ Where is he going? Where could he possibly be going? He can't leave me like this!_

Pitch quickly reentered Jack's vision and soothed him with another kiss. "I'm just getting something from my desk. Something you'll want, trust me."

Jack heard one of the drawers open and close before Pitch came back. He whimpered in want at the lube and condoms in Pitch's hand, which were set down within reaching distance.

Pitch focused his attention back on Jack, going back to kissing him. Jack hooked his legs around Pitch's waist, drawing him closer, grinding against him, moaning at how hard Pitch was already. He knew he was worse, but he hadn't even touched Pitch yet.

Lifting his hips, Jack pushed harder, encouraging more stimulation, more contact, just more and Pitch finally, _finally_, unfastened the button on Jack's jeans. As the pants slipped off his hips, Jack toed his shoes off, somehow managing to remove his socks as well.

Pitch moved back to strip off Jack's pants and didn't return right away, apparently to admire the view, as his gaze was decidedly _not_ fixed on Jack's face. It lingered on his now exposed crotch for several moments, before traveling down his bare legs and skimming back up to his still clothed chest. Despite Jack not being fully naked, something about the sight obviously pleased Pitch, if that lazy smile meant anything. Jack liked it.

As Pitch stepped between Jack's legs, he slipped his hands under Jack's hoodie, heating the flesh there and raising goosebumps everywhere else. He pushed the hoodie up until it was just above the base of Jack's ribs. Fingers traced over the scar on his right side, making Jack shiver, and Pitch rested his forehead against Jack's.

"Are you sure you want this?" Pitch asked in a hushed voice. He was checking to ensure everything was okay, everything was wanted, and any doubts Jack had were completely dispelled with that comment.

"Yes, yes, _please_, yes," he pleaded, straining against his binding with the force of his desperation.

"Exactly what I hoped to hear," Pitch said, voice gentle, but thick with lust. One of his hands reached for the lube, leaving Jack' skin feeling cold. Jack's insides twisted in excitement and he braced his heels on the edge of the desk as Pitch lubed up his fingers. When Pitch touched his knees to direct his legs farther apart, Jack shuddered in anticipation. The first finger pushed into him and he tilted his head back, making a sound of appreciation deep in his throat.

"Look at me," Pitch demanded softly. Jack wasn't aware that he had closed his eyes. Quivering, he opened them to see Pitch staring down at him regally, a satisfied smirk curving his lips. "Yes, just like that. Hold my gaze."

Jack was glad that Pitch was telling him what to do because he honestly had no idea. This was _far_ from his first time having sex, but it had been a while and never had he felt this overwhelmed, so he did the only thing he was able: what Pitch told him to do.

With their eyes locked, Pitch began to move his finger at a slow, maddening pace. It wasn't enough, not nearly so. Jack was desperate enough to plead Pitch to just continue without preparation, but that was a terrible idea, so he restrained himself and surrendered to Pitch's ministrations.

When Pitch added a second finger, it took all of Jack's self-control to not throw his head back and break the eye contact. He wasn't sure if he should focus on the intensity in Pitch's eyes or sensations he was creating with his fingers. Jack didn't want to miss a single instant of either, but the full experience of both was lost in his divided attention. As he hovered in limbo, a third finger pressed in and that was too much to ignore. His eyes fluttered shut and his entire world at that moment became Pitch's fingers inside him, moving, stretching, drawing out sensations that had become forgotten. He pushed his hips up, wanting more –

Pitch withdrew his fingers.

Jack's moan of disappointment and longing didn't cover up Pitch's chuckle. "None of that, Jack. I told you to look at me."

_Fucking asshole. As much as I like being ordered around I want to enjoy myself._ Despite his thoughts, Jack didn't want to jeopardize his chances, so he opened his eyes and forced a forlorn expression onto his face as he stared up at Pitch, begging him to continue.

"You already disobeyed me and you think that's going to be enough now? You look debauched enough that I bet you are willing to do anything to prove that you want me inside you, that you even _deserve_ me inside you."

Considering the situation, Jack had been rather well put together, but Pitch's words took him completely apart. He had faked his desperation when he looked at Pitch moments ago, but there was no passing off lust blow pupils and a heaving chest that suddenly felt constricted by the fabric that still covered it as an act.

"I am, I _do_, please, let me, more . . ." Jack let himself trail off before more incoherent nonsense could spill from his lips.

"Then you must do exactly as I tell you." Pitch's thumb gently stroked his cheek and Jack leaned into the touch. "And, right now," Pitch continued in a whisper, his fingers trailing down to grip Jack's chin, "I'm telling you to look at me."

"Of course, anything, _any_thing," Jack promised, looking right at Pitch. He never wanted something, someone, more than he did in this moment. Perhaps he should be frightened by that, but he was too drunk on lust to bring himself to address it.

"Very good." Pitch finally slid his fingers back into Jack, immediately starting with two and adding a third after only a few pumps. Jack kept his eyes trained on Pitch's the entire time and barely felt a sting as the fingers spread and stretched, he was so relaxed and open and willing.

When Pitch withdrew his fingers, Jack's groan was one of anticipation as opposed to one of disappointment. Pitch looked away with a satisfied smirk and Jack took that as release from his order. He dropped his head back, lost in the pleasure with eyelids fluttering as he stared up at the ceiling, but his eyes soon flew open at the sound of Pitch pulling his zipper down.

Jack looked up to see Pitch reaching for one of the condoms. How Pitch could remember such a thing with the state they were both in he had no idea, but he was grateful one of them was thinking somewhat rationally. Pitch ripped the package open and rolled the condom on, Jack unable to tear his gaze away.

_He's definitely bigger than pretty much _all_ of the guys I've slept with_, he thought, whining impatiently. _This is gonna be good._

"I would ask if you like what you see, but I already know the answer." Pitch's smugness made Jack want to kick him in the face. As that wouldn't work out so well with his current goal of getting laid, Jack settled for growling and hooking his heels around Pitch's hips to press him closer, making the slickness of the pre-lubed condom rub against his hole. Jack hummed deeply in satisfaction.

Pitch slipped an arm under Jack's shoulder and cupped the back of his head, supporting it as he kissed him with what felt like all the force of his hunger. Jack eagerly reciprocated, barely faltering when Pitch lined up to him. The kiss continued as Pitch slowly pushed in, though it lessened in intensity to match Pitch's leisure.

Jack could feel every inch, every stretch, every hitch of breath and it was absolutely perfect. When Pitch stopped before he was all the way in, Jack pressed with his heels again.

"More," he whispered against Pitch's lips, the word sounding more like a moan of desperation than the demand it was intended to be.

"Can you handle more, Jack?" Pitch's voice was soft, but teasing, challenging. Jack was always up for a challenge, especially one he knew he could win. He let the pressure of his heels and an aggressive kiss speak for him and Pitch stopped resisting, allowing Jack to control the pace. Setting one slightly faster than before, it didn't take long for Pitch's hips to settle against him, leaving them both gasping for breath.

"Is that . . . all?" Jack managed between pants. Pitch's fingers knotted in his hair, yanking his head back again.

"Brat," Pitch said, though Jack could hear the amusement in his voice. He let out a breathy laugh that was quickly choked off as Pitch's teeth sunk into his neck. Reacting automatically, Jack went to grab his head, but his arms only jerked uselessly against the tie binding him. He had nearly forgotten it was there.

His attention was drawn away from that once again when Pitch pulled out and thrust back in. Jack's moan sent his vocal cords vibrating and he could feel where Pitch was biting into his skin. Pitch stayed latched on as he established a rhythm, leaving Jack to become lost in the sensations all over again, in the tie tightening around his wrists, in the teeth against his neck, in the weight of Pitch inside him.

A hand wrapped around his cock and Jack realized just how long he had been neglected on that plane, how he hadn't even noticed because everything else had been _so good_. His hips jerked in response, prompting Pitch to begin moving his hand. Jack felt close, _so_ close, but he couldn't allow himself to come this soon.

When Pitch finally loosened his grip and pulled his teeth out of Jack's neck to pant heavily into his ear, Jack couldn't help but jibe, "Out of breath already, old man?"

The following hard, rough thrusts and strokes left Jack gasping and squirming.

"Going to come already? Are you that inexperienced, Jack?"

"_Me_? You haven't even – AH!" Jack was abruptly cut off as Pitch hit his prostate, exactly what Jack had planned on taunt him about not doing yet.

"I actually think it's saying quite a lot – about my own skill – that I managed to get you so worked up – without finding your prostate," Pitch said between breaths, stroking faster and thrusting at that same angle. Jack couldn't respond, too focused on not coming. Pitch was still quite collected and Jack was _not_ going to let him win this silently established contest of endurance.

Having his hands bound put him at a distinct disadvantage. When he bottomed, Jack would usually grip onto his partner's shoulders or a pillow, depending on the position, to anchor himself. Unable to do either, Jack tried keeping a steady pull against the tie, but that only caused it to bite into his skin and hurt too much to serve as a proper distraction. Not to mention the way the edge of the desk dug into his wrists. He felt as if he was floating, leaving him with only the pleasure to latch onto. Which would have been _great_ in _any_ other situation.

Jack finally slipped his legs all the way around Pitch's waist and squeezed, forcing Pitch to shift his angle so he was no longer pounding Jack's prostate with every thrust. The relief was enough for Jack to pull himself together. He became aware of Pitch's neck near his face, within easy reaching distance. Deciding it wasn't fair that only he had been marked, Jack leaned forward to attach his mouth to the stretch of skin in front of him. He started off just kissing, tasting, and Pitch didn't protest, so Jack took that as permission to continue, but as soon as he began to bear down with his teeth, Pitch growled and pulled away, his hand tangling in Jack's hair to keep him at bay.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Pitch hissed, accompanied by a thrust directly to Jack's prostate.

Jack let out a strangled moan. There was no way he was going to last much longer at this rate. He didn't care about not coming first anymore. Letting go would feel so much better. He was just about to allow himself to fall over that edge into ultimate pleasure when Pitch's hand stopped moving to tightly grip the base of his cock, preventing him from coming.

Jack whined. He had been so close, it was _right_ there and he wanted it _so_ badly.

"You're not gonna win doing that," he gasped, trying to goad Pitch into letting him go.

"I changed my mind," Pitch said, constricting his grip. "You're not allowed to come before I do."

Jack would have come from just those words if it wasn't for Pitch stopping him. Jack really did like having his hands bound, but he wished he had more mobility at the moment. At least then he could attempt to remove Pitch's hand, but he could only lie there, whining brokenly, gritting his teeth, completely overwhelmed as Pitch continued to slam into him.

Pitch pressed their cheeks together, his hand still cupping the back of Jack's head, and his thrusts began to lose their rhythm. Jack was too busy feeling relieved at the prospect of being released from his torture to dwell too long on how affectionate Pitch was being. It wasn't until Pitch kissed him deeply, moaning into Jack's mouth as he came, that the intimacy of the situation struck him. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but it was wiped from his mind as Pitch loosened his hand and gave him a single stroke, bringing him to orgasm as well and catching most of his come in his hand.

Pitch continued to kiss him lazily as they came down from their orgasms. Jack's legs slipped from around Pitch's waist to dangle over the edge of the desk. He felt boneless and wholly relaxed.

That could only last so long. His arms began to protest being stretched above his head and the ache in his ass made itself known. Jack shifted in discomfort, a small noise accompanying his movement, and Pitch finally pulled away. He stared down at Jack with a half-lidded, deeply satisfied gaze as he licked Jack's come off his fingers. Once he was finished, Pitch leaned forward and carefully loosened the tie from the handle and from Jack's wrists. Jack brought his hands to his chest, weakly rubbing his wrists until Pitch caught them in his own hands, taking over the soothing action.

"Are you feeling okay?" Pitch asked, kissing him softly.

Despite being a bit confused about Pitch's caring behavior, Jack was doing wonderfully. Not wanting to mention his confusion in fear of ruining the moment, Jack nodded.

"Hmm, actually, just one thing," he said.

Pitch tensed. "What is it?" he asked, obviously worried that he did something wrong.

"I need you _out_ of me." Jack smirked at the comical way Pitch's eyes widened and then narrowed. Pitch didn't comment as he did as asked, drawing a small noise from Jack, and even helped pull him into a sitting position. Jack winced as he slid off the desk. He picked his pants and boxers up from the floor and Pitch sorted himself out, disposing the condom and refastening his own pants.

Slipping his pants back on, Jack felt pretty gross, but he would shower and clean himself out once he got to his room. He wanted to head back right now, but he couldn't leave without saying anything to Pitch. _What am I supposed to say, though? "Thanks for the fuck, how's this gonna affect my next paycheck?" And how am I supposed to act around him now? Is this just a one-time thing or . . . what?_

Jack was just about to say something to break the silence before it became awkward, but Pitch was suddenly there, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, tilting his head up to kiss him.

"I told you there was no need to be afraid of my office," Pitch said.

Jack offered a crooked smile. "Do you do this with all your employees then?"

"Only the ones I know can handle me."

"Well that's good, because I only sleep with my bosses when they can put up with me."

Pitch pulled him back into a rough kiss, which Jack quickly pulled away from as he realized something.

"Wait, the reason you called me to your office was to fuck me?!"

"I wasn't thinking in quite so crude terms, but yes," Pitch said, nodding.

"You planned this!"

"That I did."

Jack blinked. That was . . . not entirely surprising. The premeditation definitely suggested it wasn't just a one-time thing. "Okay then."

Pitch smirked knowingly. "You have no objections then."

"I'll let you know if any come up," Jack breathed, leaning up to kiss Pitch again.

"You better," Pitch said before reciprocating.

Jack would have continued kissing Pitch until it turned into round two if a slight shifting of his stance didn't remind him of the slickness of the lube still in his ass and how much he needed a shower.

Pulling away, Jack said, "At the moment I object to being this disgusting, so I would very much like to go shower."

"I suppose I can allow that," Pitch said, but he didn't release Jack until he sucked another hickey onto his neck, just below his jawline. Jack held back a whimper; he very much liked Pitch marking him, even though no one but the other employees would really notice. _Assholes probably knew this was gonna happen anyway._

Pitch sent him on his way with a nip to the lips and a grope to the ass. The door closed behind him and Jack sighed happily. Apparently Pitch _was_ open for a fuck buddy and Jack was all too happy to fill that position. Despite not knowing how long that title was going to stick, he was content for now.

With a rather dopey smile on his face, Jack set off down the still deserted hallway. He supposed he was lucky there was no one to see the rather obvious limp in his step.


End file.
